I slumped in my seat at the inn, rubbing my sore arms as I glared into my half-eaten plate. "I swear, Ariston, they're trying to kill me," I complained, pushing the food around with my fork. "Every day it's the same—endless drills, weapon practice until I can barely lift my arms, then more running until I feel like my legs are going to fall off. How am I supposed to survive this?"
Ariston chuckled, cleaning a glass behind the bar. "That's the Vanguard for you, lad. Tough as nails. But you're still standing, aren't you?"
"Barely," I muttered. Helena, his wife, gave me a sympathetic smile as she refilled my cup.
"Don't worry, you'll get the hang of it," she said kindly. "Besides, they wouldn't push you so hard if they didn't see some promise in you."
"Promise?" I snorted, but before I could continue, the inn door swung open with a loud creak, and the room instantly fell silent. I turned, raising an eyebrow as a young woman stepped inside.
She was striking—dressed in an exquisite emerald gown embroidered with delicate gold patterns that shimmered under the light. Her raven-black hair was twisted into an elaborate braid, adorned with jewels that sparkled like stars, and she carried herself with the kind of grace that made the rest of us look like clumsy children. Everything about her, from the subtle curve of her lips to the sharpness in her gaze, screamed power and authority.
"Who's that?" I whispered, glancing at Ariston. I noticed something odd—the whole inn had gone stiff. Men were bowing, heads low, and women were dropping into deep curtsies, eyes cast down. Even Ariston, usually so easygoing, was hastily wiping his hands on his apron and inclining his head in respect.
"Bow, lad!" he hissed under his breath, eyes wide. "That's Princess Elowen, the second in line to the throne."
The Princess? My heart skipped a beat, and I scrambled to stand, but before I could even manage a clumsy bow, she was already standing right in front of me, looking me over with those piercing eyes. I froze, feeling like I'd just been pinned under a dragon's gaze.
"And who might you be?" she asked, her voice calm but carrying an unmistakable note of command.
"Uh—Adrian," I stammered, my mouth suddenly dry. "Adrian Evans."
"Adrian Evans…" she repeated slowly, as if tasting the words, then her gaze shifted to the sword at my hip. "Show me your blade."
I blinked, glancing at my sword in confusion. Why was she interested in it? But I didn't dare refuse. Carefully, I drew it and held it out to her. She barely spared it a glance before shaking her head, a look of disappointment crossing her face.
"It's not the one," she murmured.
"The one?" I blurted, frowning. "What do you mean?"
Her eyes narrowed, as if weighing whether I was worth explaining it to. After a tense moment, she sighed. "I'm searching for the sword of the First Empress—Excalibur. A blade forged by the Goddess Ravanna herself for her chosen champion."
"Excalibur?" My mind raced as I tried to recall what I'd learned in history lessons. The First Empress—the Peasant-made-Queen. A woman who rose from nothing to unite this entire land. Legends said she wielded a blade that could cut through anything, a weapon of unmatched power. "I thought that was just a story…"
"Stories always have a seed of truth," she replied, tilting her head slightly. "But I've yet to find it, no matter where I look." She looked back at me, eyes sharp. "What knight branch are you with?"
I swallowed, suddenly feeling very small under her scrutiny. "Uh, the Vanguard, Your Highness."
"The Vanguard?" Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, and she studied me again, as if reevaluating something. Then, to my shock, she nodded briskly. "Take me to your headquarters."
The entire inn went deathly silent. I could feel every set of eyes boring into me, a collective gasp of disbelief hanging in the air. I looked back at her, dumbfounded. "Y-Your Highness, are you sure? The Vanguard—"
"I know what Vanguard is," she interrupted impatiently. "And I want to go there. Now."
I glanced helplessly at Ariston, who looked just as stunned as I felt. But what choice did I have? Swallowing hard, I gave a stiff bow—probably a second too late—and gestured awkwardly to the door.
"As you wish, Your Highness. I'll… take you there."
And just like that, the Princess of Ogygia turned on her heel and strode out, leaving me scrambling to catch up. The walk to the Vanguard headquarters felt like a nightmare come to life. Princess Elowen was relentless, pointing out every misstep I made in terms of knightly etiquette and basic gentlemanly conduct.
"Straighten your back," she commanded as we rounded a corner, and I immediately adjusted my posture.
"And stop slouching when you walk," she added a moment later, making me puff out my chest awkwardly.
"You need to bow when addressing a lady," she continued. "Especially one of higher rank."
"Y-yes, Your Highness," I stammered, bobbing my head in a quick bow.
"Not like that! Lower your head. Respectfully," she instructed with a stern gaze, making me duck almost to the ground before she sighed, half-amused.
"Good grief," she muttered. "What are they teaching you?"
By the time we reached the large stone building that housed the Vanguard, I was wound tighter than a crossbow string, and my face burned with embarrassment. The Princess hadn't stopped correcting me once, and each critique only made me more aware of every awkward move I made.
Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the heavy door for her—at least getting that part right—and was met with the blur of something metal whizzing straight toward my face.
"Whoa!" I yelped, ducking and grabbing Princess Elowen by the waist as I pulled her out of the way. The sword flew past us and embedded itself in the wall behind me with a deafening thud. My heart hammered in my chest as I looked over at the culprit.
"Calypso! Watch it!" I snapped, still holding the Princess close. The warrior girl glanced over, rolling her eyes nonchalantly.
"Oh, it's just you, Adrian—"
She stopped dead when she saw who I was standing with, her eyes widening to the size of dinner plates.
"Emer… Emergency Code Red!" she screamed at the top of her lungs.
In an instant, the entire headquarters erupted into chaos. I barely had time to step back from the Princess—realizing I was still holding onto her waist—before a flurry of footsteps thundered from all corners of the building. I quickly let go, clearing my throat awkwardly as I moved away.
"When exactly were you planning to remove your hand, Adrian?" Princess Elowen's voice was calm, but there was a playful glint in her eyes.
"S-sorry, Your Highness!" I yelped, face flushing as I took a hasty step back, nearly tripping over my own feet.
The room fell silent as more of the Vanguard members piled in, forming a tense circle around us. I noticed Kane, the towering second-in-command, looking genuinely alarmed, and the twins, Evan and Ethan, whispering furiously to each other. Before I could process it all, Captain Kraven strode in, a steaming cup of tea in hand.
"What the hell is going on—?" His words died in his throat the moment his gaze landed on the Princess. He froze, eyes wide, and then—
"Princess Elowen?!" he sputtered, nearly dropping his tea before he quickly set it down and dropped to one knee. "Your Highness, what a surprise!"
And then, to my utter shock, he sprang up and swept her into a huge bear hug.
"Kraven!" The Princess laughed, returning the embrace warmly. "It's been far too long."
I stood there, utterly bewildered, as the rest of the Vanguard just stared. I edged back a little, glancing over at Tink, who was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.
"What the hell is going on?" I whispered. "Why is the Captain so happy?."
The dwarf grumbled, rolling his eyes. "The Captain and the Princess are close."
"Oh." I blinked, watching as Kraven set the Princess down, beaming like a proud uncle. That explained… absolutely nothing.
Before I could even begin to wrap my head around it, Princess Elowen cleared her throat, turning her attention to the rest of us.
"I've come because I need your help," she announced. Instantly, the room filled with groans and muffled complaints.
"Again?" Ethan muttered under his breath.
"She always wants our help to find that blasted sword," Evan added, throwing her hands up in exasperation.
"Hey, what's the problem?" I asked, completely lost.
"The problem," Ethan drawled, giving me a pitying look, "is that we've been looking for Empress Arthuretta's lost sword for four years. And guess what? Still no luck."
A sword named Excalibur? Empress Arthuretta's sword? Wait, was King Arthur actually female? First God was a woman and now the famous King Arthur of Legends was genderbent, before I could voice my thought, Captain Kraven's booming laughter cut through the grumbling.
"Ha! You know we're always happy to help, Elowen," he said, his grin broad and easy. "You just have to say the word."
The Princess nodded, looking relieved. "Thank you, Captain. But this time… I'll need more direct assistance." Her gaze swept the room, assessing each of us in turn. "I'll be taking one of your Vanguard to the castle to act as my personal knight for the time being. I need help researching the Royal Library's records on the First Empress."
Kraven frowned, then shrugged. "Calypso? Kane? Take your pick, Princess."
She shook her head. "I want him." She pointed directly at me.
"Me?" I blurted, eyes wide. Every head in the room turned to stare at me like I'd just sprouted a second head. "But I—"
"You heard her, lad!" Kraven barked, slapping me on the back so hard I nearly face-planted. "Get yourself ready! You've got a new mission!"
My mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, completely speechless. I had no idea what I was supposed to say, so I just snapped to attention, shouting the only thing that came to mind.
"Yes, sir!"
☉☉☉
The Princess called for her royal carriage, and my jaw nearly hit the ground when I saw it. The thing was a masterpiece—carved from polished mahogany, with gold filigree running along the edges, and pulled by a pair of powerful, sleek horses. Even the wheels gleamed, etched with intricate designs that probably had some magical enhancements. No simple carriage, that was for sure.
As it pulled up, a servant beastman stepped forward, bowing low before opening the door for us. He was tall, covered in short brown fur, and had the head of a wolf, with sharp yellow eyes that glinted in the sunlight. I hesitated, unsure whether to greet him, but the Princess strode forward with practiced grace and gestured for me to follow. I quickly scrambled in after her.
"Take us to the castle, Kor," she instructed the beastman coachman, who nodded without a word and shut the door behind us. The carriage lurched forward, and I sat back, still stunned by the sheer opulence of the ride. Everything inside was plush—velvet seats, embroidered curtains, and even a small, polished table set into the side.
But what caught my attention most was the Princess herself, casually glancing out the window as if this was all perfectly normal. I cleared my throat awkwardly.
"Uh, Your Highness… if you don't mind me asking… Why are there so many beastmen working as servants here?" I finally asked, glancing at the wolf-headed driver. It seemed odd—almost every servant I'd seen so far was some form of beastman.
Princess Elowen turned her head slightly, shrugging lightly as if the question were of little consequence. "It's their culture. Beastmen have long served as slaves or servants. They were created by Ravanna to serve humanity and uphold order. That's all they know."
"Slaves?" I repeated, frowning. "But… they look—"
"They are not human," she cut in, her voice firm. "They are beasts given human shape. They were created to serve and protect, not to live like we do."
I bit back any further questions, sensing this was not the time to get into the ethics of it all. Instead, I glanced down at my own attire—just a plain cotton shirt, black hosen pants, and the sturdy black leather boots I'd bought from a local shop. Hardly what one would expect a knight to wear.
The Princess noticed, eyeing me critically. "Do you have any proper armor, Sir Adrian?"
"Uh, no, Your Highness," I admitted, flushing. "I don't exactly have the money to buy any."
Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully before she leaned down, pulling out a heavy, ornately carved chest from under the seat. I watched, perplexed, as she opened it and drew out a magnificent black fur cloak, lined with shimmering threads of gold. It looked both regal and dangerous, like something that belonged on a battlefield and a throne room.
"This is my father's," she said, handing it to me. "Made from the pelt of the Nemean Lion itself. It's practically indestructible and will protect you from attacks. Wear it."
"Wait, really? I—I can't—" I stammered, eyes wide as I took the cloak. It felt impossibly soft yet sturdy, like armor woven into fur.
"It's an order, not a suggestion," she replied coolly. "Father has plenty of them. He won't even notice it's missing."
Still unsure, I stood up, throwing the cloak over my shoulders and fastening the silver brooch that held it in place. The moment I flipped up the hood, a strange sensation washed over me, like a burst of cool wind across my skin. Despite the warmth of the day, I felt perfectly comfortable.
"Wow," I breathed. "It feels… different."
"It's temperature-regulating," she explained with a small smile. "It will keep you cool in the heat and warm in the cold. Consider it a small token of my favor."
"Thank you, Your Highness," I murmured, bowing correctly this time.
"Better," she acknowledged, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. "But work on that form."
Before I could reply, the carriage began to slow. I glanced out the window and saw that we were ascending a steep, paved hill. The road led to a massive, golden gate that gleamed in the afternoon light, flanked by towering statues of armored knights. Behind it, the castle rose like something out of a storybook—a sprawling fortress of white stone and soaring towers, surrounded by perfectly manicured gardens and courtyards.
My mouth dropped open as we passed through the gates, the carriage circling a massive marble fountain before coming to a stop in front of a grand staircase. Servants—beastmen and women of all shapes and sizes—stood lined up, heads bowed in deference. The head butler, a tall figure with the head of a ram and long, spiraled horns, stepped forward as the carriage door was opened by Kor.
"Welcome back, Your Highness," the ram greeted, his voice deep and cultured. "How was your outing?"
The Princess didn't miss a beat. "It went just as I had planned, to notify my father and mother that I have selected a knight for myself."
The butler blinked, glancing at me with a mixture of surprise and… was that suspicion?
"As you command, Your Highness. I shall inform them immediately," he replied, turning sharply on his hoofed feet and striding away.
"Wait, selected a knight?" I blurted, looking between the Princess and the retreating butler. "What do you mean?"
"As a princess of the Royal Family, it's customary for me to have a personal knight," she explained, her tone casual. "You will be mine."
"But… What about our project?" I asked, bewildered.
"We'll work on it on the side," she said breezily, already ascending the stone steps toward the grand entrance. I hesitated, then hurried after her, still reeling from everything that had just happened.
The door swung open before we even reached it, and I followed her inside, my mind racing. A personal knight? For a princess? This is not where I had thought I was going to be.
This was going to be a long day.